Gundam 0080: Solo Front
by Falcyon
Summary: What if Bernie Wiseman had been able to survive what would have been his final fight? This story contains a hypothetical answer to that question. Follw Bernie as he attempts to evade the authorities and get off the Libot colony safely.
1. Chapter 1

Black 9

 **Hey everyone, what's up? It's Falc here again for another fanfic, but today, I'm giving my followers something a bit different. A Gundam fic! I've stuck with RWBY for a bit too long and decided to deviate from my usual comedic self to write a more serious story. I got to write this story for my creative writing class at university, and I've had the help of my friends from class, my professor, and my very close friend, The Draigg, who claims to be my Gundam spirit animal…whatever that means. I really hope you enjoy my hard work!**

Gundam 0080: Solo Front

Bernie Wiseman gritted his teeth as the cockpit shuddered violently. Alarms were blaring on all sides and warning lights were blinding him, but he had to focus. Through his view screen, he could see the glaring white shape of the enemy mobile suit glinting in the sunlight as it prepared for another onslaught, making its way through the dense evergreen forest. His own Zaku was mostly destroyed already, having crashed just a few weeks earlier. He needed to find a way to either claim a swift victory against this monstrous mech, or accept defeat and die at the hands of an enemy he was trying to protect. He wiped the blood out of his eye and pulled the controls hard to the left, firing the thrusters on the side of the Zaku to fling it away from the tight circle the enemy had trapped it in. While his mobile suit was, in fact, designed for space battles, it could still take quite a beating on land.

The enemy mobile suit raised its beam saber and activated it, the garish red glow illuminating the scratched surface of its armor. Both mechs were damaged, and their pilots knew it. Bernie swung the heat axe held in the right hand of the Zaku in a ferocious arc, trying to deflect the onslaught he was sure would come. True to his prediction, the enemy attempted a stab, which glanced off the side of the axe and sliced through the ankle rotor with all of the torque its arm could handle. Bernie winced as another alert joined the cacophony of alarms ripping through the small cockpit. He felt the world tilt sideways and thanked his harness as he crashed to the ground with a boom. The enemy was approaching quickly, and Bernie decided it was time to get creative. He activated the thrusters on the Zaku's back and half catapulted himself into the air in an attempt to jump the mech and surprise its pilot.

He tackled his enemy, throwing it to the ground and holding its arms against its body. The nameless pilot also must have had a trick or two up their sleeve, because he or she used the jets on their mech to fling both of them down the hill at high speed. Trees crashed and snapped violently around them as they careened toward a clearing where a nearby office park sat. The enemy rocketed up out of Bernie's grip and crashed through one of the office buildings. Luckily, because it was Christmas Day, nobody was there to get caught in the crossfire or the debris. Bernie yelped in pain as he was wrenched off the enemy mech and smashed hard into the concrete of the parking lot. The harness was cutting into his chest. He cursed not being able to bring his padded pilot suit with him. Blood dripped onto his instrument panel from where a previous bullet had grazed his head. He thought back to everything that had happened leading up to this final battle.

He'd been brought to this space colony, Libot, on a black ops mission thought up by the head of the Principality of Zeon's Grenada military base himself. He and his team were to smuggle in parts for a new mobile suit, the MS-18E Kampfer.

Then that kid, Al, had nosed his way into the operation. While he had originally caused some hassle, that one kid sure had his uses. That much he could admit. Plus, Al kind of grew on him, in a way. It helped that Al also managed to introduce Bernie to his next door neighbor, Christina. The two had hit it off brilliantly. He didn't quite know how he really felt about Christina. She was friendly, kind, and strong-willed. So what if she worked for his enemies? In the few weeks that he had stayed in this colony, he'd grown to really like Christina. In fact, that's why he was fighting right now. He was fighting to protect people like her.

He shook his head clear, splattering blood over more buttons and switches in the cockpit. Now wasn't the time for that kind of thinking. He needed to survive. He needed to win. He needed to save the colony. There was a Zeon fleet headed there with illegal nuclear warheads as he fought. He had to defeat his enemy here and report back to Zeon that his mission was a success, or the colony would be annihilated. The fates of half a billion people rested in his hands. Bernie grunted and pulled his tattered Zaku up just as the other mech started to recover. He wouldn't let his friends die. He had to protect everyone by pretending to be their enemy. In truth, he technically was still an antagonist. This was terrorism, just him acting on his own. No backing, no orders. But it was to keep the colony safe. The irony was almost overbearing.

Bernie watched as the mech before him picked itself up, the damaged arms creaking under the weight of the torso. It stood proud and tall, the damage only serving to make it appear tougher and more noble. It pulled its beam sword back out and ignited it once again. Bernie realized all that was at stake. He hoped he would be able to make it out of this fight alive, but if not... He furrowed his brow in frustration. It couldn't end like this! It just couldn't!

He braced himself and threw himself at his opponent. This was is last stand. He would not lose this fight. Bernie swung his axe, in a last attempt to damage the mech beyond repair, just as it did the same to him. Both weapons narrowly avoided each other as they continued their final assault toward the destruction of the other. Bernie made the Zaku duck at the last second and felt it shudder as its head was ripped clean off, just a few feet above him. Even though his video feed had been cut, he felt his axe as it dug into the chest cockpit of his enemy and tore the front wide open. Metal screeched with the fury of a thousand banshees, scrap and fuel spraying in every direction. Both mechs sank to their knees and smashed into each other. The Zaku bounced off the slightly taller mech and fell backward, creating a large crater around it on its final impact with the ground. The opposing mobile suit crashed to the parking lot on its side.

After a tense minute, Bernie could hear footsteps clank against the thick armor. Each impact of a hardened sole on hard metal pierced the eerie silence that had settled over the area. Each step became louder and louder, marching toward where he was sitting. He knew what was about to happen. They were going to shoot him in his seat, a sad, lonely execution. He braced himself for the inevitable and opened the front door to his cockpit. He was dead anyway. The steps reached the opening. Bernie's head wound dripped blood into his eyes, obscuring his vision. He could feel the gun pointed at him. A thick tension threaded him to the gun and its owner. Bernie gritted his teeth again. It was really a bad habit of his. If he wasn't about to die, he would go see a dentist about it. He let out a half laugh, half wail. Here he was, face to face with his enemy, and he was thinking of scheduling an appointment he would never be able to make. You think of the strangest things when faced with certain, undeniable death. Except he wasn't dead yet. Silence once again blanketed the cabin. Well, if the pilot wasn't going to kill him, the tension certainly was.

"Go on, shoot me," he resigned through a frustrated grimace. What're they waiting for?

The response he expected was a gunshot. Maybe some words from his assailant, if he was lucky. What he didn't expect was a clang and a soft sob. A soft, feminine sob. In fact, he recognized that voice, even though he had never heard it that distraught before.

"C-Christina…?" was all Bernie could say in his dumbfounded state. He wiped the blood out of his eyes and smeared it on his jacket. Before him sat Christina, the woman he… the woman he cared for immensely. She had taken her helmet off, letting her auburn hair cascade down her shoulders. The right arm of her pilot uniform was soaked with blood where shrapnel had torn through the material and the skin on her arm. Her pistol lay haphazardly next to her helmet.

Cristina sat down on the lip of the entrance and held her head in her hands, crying softly. Bernie slowly undid his harness and tried to get up. Christina suddenly scrambled to her feet, picked her gun up with her non-dominant hand, and pointed it at him. She wiped her face haphazardly with her bad arm and stared him down. Pain, confusion, and intense fear ran across her face, contorting her features wildly.

"You…" she whispered. It was deafening. Her voice was laced with equal parts disbelief and loathing.

"Chris-"

"You're a Zeke! A Zeon!" Christina shook her head as if she was trying to deny what was right in front of her. Bernie smiled sadly.

"Christina… I'm sorry. I was trying to protect you-"

"Don't give me that! You're a lying scumbag! We were friends! I trusted you! I…"

"Chris! Just listen to me!" Bernie said, heatedly cutting off Christina. "I was going to save this colony!"

Words had a hard time escaping Christina's throat. All she could stand to say was, "H-how could you?! Liar! You monster!"

"Christina, listen to me," Bernie's voice cracked as he started to yell. "If I hadn't fought you, the colony would have been destroyed! The Zeon-"

"Your friends? Your allies?! Your kind?! You expect me to believe that? How dare you!"

"My friends are all on this colony! Can't you see that? I did this to protect you! This is all for you! For Al! I couldn't run away from this!"

"You… you ass! How could fighting the Gundam save anyone?!"

"Let me go! The Zeon are going to nu-"

"You aren't going anywhere! I'm going to take you in! You're going to face a Federal court, you bastard!

Bernie gritted his teeth, ready to defend himself to Christina. But, before he could at least try to make her understand, he heard an all too familiar voice coming nearer.

"Bernie! Bernie, are you alright?!" It was Al. He had followed Bernie into the warzone without a second thought.

"Al?!" Christina suddenly took her attention off Bernie, forgetting her military training. Bernie took the opportunity to grab her arm and twist it painfully until she dropped the gun to the floor. She yelped loudly and tried to fight back, but Bernie held on tight. Hurried footsteps clanged along the Zaku up to the cockpit. Christina yelped again as she was pushed into the cockpit, landing on Bernie.

"You jerk!" Al yelled from the entrance to the cockpit. "Get away from Bernie! He's trying to save us!" He was about to jump into the cockpit and attempt a brawl, but he suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. His eyes went wider than dinnerplates. "Chris…?"

"Al? What are you..." came Bernie's response. "Get out of here!" Christina was too dumbfounded to respond.

"Bernie… Christina…" Al regained his composure and suddenly smiled. "You don't need to fight, you guys! The nukes were surrendered before the Zeon fleet could use them! We're safe!"

Bernie could only open and close his mouth like a confused salmon. He didn't need to fight. His friends were safe. Granted, one of them was lying on top of him with a look of absolute hatred plastered on her face, but they were safe.

"It's over…" he said with a tired sigh. "Nobody's gonna die…"

Christina lightly shoved him, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I have to take you in! You're going to get the firing squad for sure! You Zeon bastard!"

"Christina..." Al spoke up. "Bernie thought he had to destroy your mobile suit to get the Zeons to call off their attack! T-they were going to use nukes, Chris! Nukes!"

"Nukes… Damn Zekes... Using banned weapons…". Muttered Christina under her breath. After a moment of silent thought, she audibly said to Bernie, "You know what? Leave. Just… Just leave."

"You won't tell them…?"

"No, but... You'd better get out of here before I change my mind. And don't even THINK of showing up again." Christina's voice couldn't help but slightly waver as she talked. She pulled herself off him and pointed toward the open door of the cockpit to illustrate her point.

Al nodded with a hastening look in his eyes. "You're safe, Bernie! But you better get out of here!"

Bernie smiled sadly. This was most likely the last time he could see Christina and Al for a long while. He begrudgingly stood up on shaky legs and clambered out of the cockpit. He tore off a strip of fabric from his pilot's seat on the way out and tied it around the wound on his forehead. He stopped and tousled Al's messy brown hair.

"Now take care of Christina for me, okay, Al? With luck, if I do manage to get out of this alive and the war ends, I'll visit you. I'll come back to this colony. That's a promise." He let his hand fall to his side before pointing it back up at Al with a more confident smile this time. "See ya, kid!"

Bernie climbed down the side of the suit as he heard Al's enthusiastic, if slightly rushed wish goodbye. He was really going to miss that kid. His shoes slapped onto the broken pavement and he turned away from the twisted mass of metal. He started walking back toward the forest, hands in his jacket pocket like he was on an evening stroll. He wouldn't let them see the tears streaming down his face, or his lower lip quivering. He had to stay strong, for them. For his friends. He made it to the treeline and broke into a sprint, branches whipping by as twigs snapped under his feet. One day he would come back. One day he would see them again. One day.

 **Whew! Chapter one is complete! Where will Bernie go? Will he ever make it off the colony? Am I possibly misleading my audience? Only I know that for sure, and I'm not telling. :3**

 **Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, check out my other stories, and be sure to leave any comments or suggestions if you have anything to say. Please remember to be polite, even if you hate the shit out of my story.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello once again! First off, I just want to say thank you for all the support on this project! As one reviewer pointed out, there's not much on War in the Pocket on here, so I guess I have the responsibility to make a decent fic to fill the void. Again, I'd like to give a shoutout to The Draigg for letting me bounce my ideas off him and back-checking my work. So, without further ado, here's chapter two!**

Bernie's feet slammed into the hardened dirt of the forest floor as he ran for his life. He ducked under branches and dodged around bushes. The same thought kept flashing through his mind; safety. Safety is what he needed. The colony's authorities, as well as the Federation, were after him for the destruction of of their prototype mobile suit, and if he was caught, he'd be arrested and either tried in court, or immediately placed in front of a firing squad. The Federation didn't exactly welcome Zeons with open arms. So Bernie ran for his life.

The man-made forest thinned out as he approached a tram station. Even though it was Christmas Day, the tram was still running, and Bernie thanked whatever gods may be watching out over him as he sprinted out from the evergreens and crossed the tracks to the little station. It was really no more than a slab of concrete that had a ramp on either side, as well as a bench and an indicator that the tram was making its approach. Bernie hopped up the ramp, taking a shortcut straight up instead of following the sidewinding concrete path. He fell onto the metal grated bench with a tired sigh and waited for the automated tram.

Bernie felt his head. The bandage had slowed down the bleeding a considerable amount, thankfully. He shifted it around so there would be a clean area to soak up more blood, and then he brushed his golden bangs down over it in an attempt to hide it. Although it didn't hide much, it was still better than nothing. At the very least it might stop a few sideways glances. He could only hope people would be too absorbed in the holiday festivities to notice.

As he sat himself up and looked down the track, the tram pulled into the station with a gentle clatter and a ding as the doors opened. Bernie picked himself up off his seat and walked into the tram car. There were two other people inside. One was an elderly man with a considerable lack of hair on his head, but more than making up for it with his long beard. He could have been a Santa Claus impersonator, save for the large cigar sticking out of the corner of his mouth. Smoke filled the cabin, much to the dismay of the other occupant. She was no more than eighteen and had long brown hair and dark brown eyes. She was covering her nose with her sleeve, out of the sightline of the older man. There was a large brown and gold bag in the seat next to her, which looked much too heavy for such a frail looking girl to lift. Bernie couldn't help but think that, just a few moments ago, these people would've been obliterated in a nuclear blast. With a relieved smile, he plopped down in the grey plastic seat across from the girl, who let out a small 'eep!' in response to his sudden appearance opposite her.

As the doors slid shut and the tram started rolling again, going toward its destination, a snore emanated from the old man and his jaw slackened, releasing its hold on the cigar, which fell to the floor with a small thud. The girl jumped. Bernie studied her as she pulled her arm away from her face. She looked on edge.

"Hey there," Bernie said gently. The girl jumped again and let out a terrified squeak.

"H-h-hello…" the girl whispered. She looked like she had seen a ghost.

"So... H-how about it? Christmas Day, and everything?"

The girl looked at him strangely, still trembling in her seat. She attempted several times to make a response before taking a deep breath and starting again.

"I-it's alright…" she responded. She had a strong accent. Australian, from the sound of it. Bernie cringed inwardly, remembering when he used a similar, but vastly over-exaggerated, in a failed attempt to blend in as a Federation soldier. That mistake cost him the lives of his entire team. Save for the contact he was going to meet. Yet again, he could hardly be considered a full team member. A spy, sure. But not a member of Team Cyclops.

"How's your celebration going?"

"W-well," the girl's voice trailed off. "I… I was on the transport that came in during the battle…" She broke off again, trembling harder. Bernie understood what she meant. The Federation had forced back the Von Helsing attack fleet for the past few days in this area. If he had to guess, the fleet would be the one that Al mentioned that had surrendered. This poor girl had almost come face to face with death. No wonder she seemed so distant and terrified. Bernie let out a sigh, despite himself.

"We're all so lucky. That could have ended badly, but it was a peaceful surrender."

The girl gulped, but at the same time became a little more confident in herself.

"That's good. We had to stop and wait behind one of the solar reflectors for the confrontation to end. I was afraid we could have been shot at."

Bernie pictured what else could have happened and shuddered. An all out nuclear strike on a small, peaceful space colony, the hull being torn apart as the atmosphere was sucked out the gaping holes where the bombs had struck… He pushed those thoughts from his mind and looked at her.

"Well, you're very brave. Not many people experience what you did, and for you to still be here, living on a normal life is an astonishingly fantastic thing."

The girl stared at her lap, her arms pushed together between her legs, as if she was considering what Bernie had said. She still looked downright terrified by her experience. There was a distinct lack of response from the girl. The only sound in the car was the snoring of the older man.

"I-I…" Velvet stuttered. "The spaceport security was the scary part."

Bernie's heart leapt into his throat.

"Security? Is it a lot more than normal?"

"Mhm," Velvet nodded in confirmation. "They triple checked my ID and passport, and I had to go through the scanner twice. And...and they searched my bags…" She hung her head further. Once again, she fell quiet.

Bernie had no way to respond to that. With this information, he realized he would need to be even more careful with heightened security. Of course the fleet would still make trouble for him, even after it surrendered. But still, it looked like the girl was somehow having a worse time right now than he was. If such a thing was possible.

So, with a small click of his tongue against his cheek, Bernie reached into his jacket and pulled out his sunglasses.

"Here. Merry Christmas," he said as he placed the glasses onto the girl's lap. "Maybe a gift'll make you feel better." He gave a small smile at the girl, who slowly raised her head to look at Bernie.

"T-thank you," she stuttered out, picking them up and putting them on. "H-how do I look?"

Bernie broke out into a wide smile.

"You look fine. They fit you well." He gave her a reassuring thumbs up. She smiled along with Bernie.

"Thank you," she said cheerfully. She took them off and studied them, noticing the engraving on the inside of one of the temples as the tram pulled to a stop.

"Property of Bernie Wiseman?"

"Yep," Bernie said as he got up out of the slightly uncomfortable seat and stretched. "See you around sometime, maybe…uh..."

"Velvet. Thank you, Bernie." She gave him a small wave as he left the tram.

"Of course. Merry Christmas, Velvet." Bernie smiled as the doors closed and the tram carried her and the elderly gentleman away.

He looked around. The downtown area of the Libot colony was mostly empty, save for a few last minute shoppers and people returning or exchanging gifts. Everyone was concerned with their own individual lives, nobody but him realizing how close they had come to total annihilation. The small scattering of people drifted through stores and down the sidewalks lazily. Bernie made his way out of the covered station into the bright sun. He didn't know why, but he expected the colony to have some way of making it snow on Christmas. Something about old traditions from Earth. Now that he thought about it, he'd never really had a proper Christmas.

Side 3, the colony cluster where Bernie had grown up, was too densely crowded for any large scale celebration like that. That was one of the many issues behind living in a closed-cylinder colony. Not only that, but it wasn't like many people could afford many gifts there, anyway. Given that most people who lived there were either political exiles or laborers left to settle after building the colonies, the majority of where he grew up was rather poor. The Earth Federation sure did appreciate it's citizens. So, it really shouldn't have been a surprise that when the Zabi family declared a split from the Federation and formed the Principality of Zeon, tons of people like him jumped at the chance to join the military. For Bernie, it was probably the best choice he really had for a good life.

Huffing, he dug his hands into his jacket pockets, attempting to blend in with the rest of the shoppers. Everything looked so clean and new, despite this being one of the older colonies. Bernie expected at least some wear on the roads, or litter in the gutter, but there was a surprising lack of any evidence that the colony was as ancient as it was. He took a moment to appreciate the amount of maintenance that had gone into Libot's upkeep on such a massive scale.

Walking another block, he arrived at a familiar side street. There was the bar his contact owned. He could recognize the off-white of the walls and the dimmed neon sign. The sign said that the bar was closed. Well, it wasn't going to be closed for him. Not today. Bernie walked straight up to the door and tried it. It opened smoothly to a flight of stairs leading down. He took them, his boots making soft noises as he descended into the bar. It was brightly lit for a place that was supposed to be closed. Sitting behind the bar was the man Bernie was looking for, already swaying a little as he poured several shots of hard liquor.

"Good morning, Charlie," Bernie said. Charlie jumped, losing his grip on the bottle, which clattered to the counter. Vodka spilled over the countertop, cascading over the edges like a waterfall on a plateau.

"Bernie," Charlie said with a sad smile. "So you couldn't run, could you?"

"No, actually-"

"I understand. It's hard to do when you don't know where to go. Come on and share a drink with me. We can die happily together." Charlie raised a shot glass and downed it quickly with a grunt.

"No. Charlie, listen," said Bernie as he pushed the shot glasses out of the way, spilling a little alcohol on his jacket sleeve. "It's over. The Principality's fleet surrendered. We're safe. Well, you are. I'm being pursued by the Federation authorities now."

Charlie opened his mouth to speak, but was silenced by Bernie raising a hand to stop him.

"I need your help getting off this colony. Passports, ID, tickets, everything. Think you can do it within… say… a day or two?"

Standing up straighter, Charlie's eyes widened.

"I… sure. Dear lord, we came so close."

"Tell me about it," Bernie said as he took a shot glass and undid the bandage on his head. He splashed the vodka onto his wound to disinfect it. He winced and grunted as pain spiked through his temple. "Gah! D'you have any bandages or a first aid kit?"

Charlie nodded and pulled a white and red plastic box out from under the counter, setting it down and turning it toward Bernie. Bernie opened it, pulling out a new bandage. He unrolled it and wrapped it around his head. This was going to be tough.

"Is it okay if I lay low here while you're getting the stuff ready?"

"Of course. You can have the store-room for now."

"Thanks, Charlie," Bernie said with a weary grin. "I'll find a way to repay you for this."

Bernie swiped the television remote off the counter and pointed it at the screen over the back ceiling corner. A breaking news report was airing on the current channel. It showed a bird's-eye coverage of the wreckage as an anchor's voice-over cut through the footage.

"...and, in what seems to be the strangest development in this morning's attack, there is no sign of the terrorist who destroyed a Federation mobile suit as well as their own. Authorities speculate that the suspect may be a member of the Principality of Zeon's military, based on the fact that they used a Zeon mobile suit. So far, there has been no statement as to the reason, or anyone who has claimed responsibility. We'll be following this story-"

The reporter was cut off as Bernie flipped the channel to some other news station reporting on last-minute shoppers. He didn't need to hear about that fight. He lived it only a short while ago. And, he sure as hell wasn't going to correct anyone on why he did it. He was going to take that baggage with him. Any reminder of what happened wasn't a good one. The best he could do was at least think of how everyone was safe, regardless of whether or not it was due to his actions. That's all anyone could do in his place.

Bernie got up out of the bar stool. He didn't realize until now how shaky his legs were. Maybe his adrenaline had kept him going up to this point, but now that he could relax a bit more, he needed a place to rest. He had lost a lot of blood. Staggering over to a nearby booth, Bernie collapsed onto the plush leather seating. Before he knew it, he was drifting from consciousness, and into blackness.


End file.
